


Stay

by Prefiera_de_Gryfalco



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Sharing a Bed, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4014493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prefiera_de_Gryfalco/pseuds/Prefiera_de_Gryfalco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michonne is ever loyal to Rick, despite his relationship with Jessie.  But Michonne is a patient woman.  And maybe good things come to those that wait.</p><p>A little angst, a lot of unresolved sexual tension commences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Michonne sighed and stretched, shifting the katana's carrying strap to a more comfortable position, and readied herself to head back home after finishing her shift on patrol.

They all had been lulled into a false sense of security after Pete's death. Alexandria was again safe for a time. Rick's group could breathe a bit easier knowing that while danger always lurked outside, the turmoil from within had settled for now. Everyone relaxed a little, even their tightly wound leader.

On her way back, Michonne saw them on Jessie's porch with Rick's hand on her upper leg while Jessie laughed at what was likely an ill-timed joke. Michonne's mouth dried up like a desert and her heart sank. She knew he had been acting slightly differently since he had killed the surgeon, but she was surprised that Rick had taken up with her so quickly. And perhaps more than just a little disappointed, truth be told. She had made her loyalty to him very clear and hoped he would understand that as close as they were as friends, she would leave the door open for something more when and if he chose.

Apparently he had made his choice. Apparently he preferred Jessie's damsel in distress routine to an intimate emotional relationship. No other relationship of hers, romantic or otherwise, that she had previously came close. Not even Andre's father Mike. She could see why after well over a year after Lori's death why a woman like Jessie would appeal to him. She was a pretty and uncomplicated housewife, much like Lori. Jessie did not challenge him and she brought back his protective alpha male tendencies. It made sense that he would pursue a woman like this. She ground her teeth and scowled in frustration in their direction, but her face quickly settled into its usual neutral state that betrayed no weakness or emotion to protect herself and her feelings as she stalked off. She would close off and shut down her feelings. She was too strong for jealous theatrics. He would remain her close friend, but she put on a brave face and walled herself in to feel less pain.

As constables, Deanna let them sort out their own schedule of when they would be on call for patrol. Michonne would patrol the afternoon and evening hours, but Rick volunteered to be on call for minor issues overnight as long as Michonne did not mind watching Judith while he was out. This seemed fair enough. Carl had wanted his own room to himself as a young teenager and did not want sole responsibility for a toddler. On those nights, Rick would have Michonne stay in his room next to her crib so she could keep an eye out for any problems. He would wake her with a gentle shake if she fell asleep reading novels or browsing comic books near Judith. Michonne would smile sleepily and walk back to her room with that brave face, but she was inwardly anguished at the blue eyes that flashed so hard in an instant for enemies, but were gentle and grateful for her care and friendship. Alas, only friendship.

But things change. Jessie died. Silly, soft, foolish, naive Jessie. Who got herself killed more or less by her new lover when she stood between Carl and the huge herd of walkers. Apparently he had made his choice. Michonne could have told her that. Rick's family always came first. And so Michonne was appropriately grim on news of Jessie's death, but she shed not a tear.

A few months after her death, Michonne was astonished to wake up not at midnight by the lamp on the night stand by Rick, but by the soft glow of daybreak courtesy of one of the neighbor's roosters crowing near dawn. She blinked slowly when she realized she was still in Rick's bed. As the fog of sleep quickly left her, she panicked for a brief moment wondering if something had happened to him on a patrol or disturbance from the previous night but she flipped off the bed sheets ( _who tucked me in?_ she wondered), she saw her work partner and friend sleeping in bed next to her. She studied him briefly as the morning light streamed into the east facing window. He looked a bit haggard to be sure, but peacefully slumbering away. His dark curls framed his face and his long eyelashes did not flutter awake as he slept. She half smiled and half frowned in amused bewilderment as she slipped out of bed to use the bathroom in the hall. When she had finished, she stuck her head back in and he had not moved. She considered slipping back under the sheets with this flawed, battered, yet incredible man, but decided not to. She would not impose herself on his company if he did not want it. If he rejected her advances, it would shatter her. If it was meant to be, it would be.

A few hours later during breakfast, he was friendly to her as usual as he complained about the late night patrol as some walkers had gotten too close to the gates, but he said nothing in particular to her about the sleeping arrangements. So she smiled back and refilled his coffee for him (black, no cream, no sugar) and they went about the rest of their day.

And so it was for several months that she would often fall asleep in bed watching Judith. And invariably by the time Rick got back late, he would slip into bed with her, but she would leave no later than just after dawn. They never said anything about it and other than Carol raising an eyebrow at her passing her in the hall while she left, no one else did either. She wanted him, but Michonne knew that he valued her for their close connection without complicating things like attachment and love. Maybe he wanted someone just to warm his bed and be close like how it was on the road. Neither of them were much for dredging up their feelings, so she never brought it up and neither did he.

Then one night, it was different.

Michonne lay curled up in Rick's bed dozing quietly in between sleep and wakefulness facing Judith's crib. It was totally dark, but as usual, she did not startle when Rick cracked open the door and slid quietly under the covers. She gave a small sigh and slipped back into sleep knowing he was near. She was not sure how long it was until she was woken by the smallest movement coming from her sleeping partner next to her. Who turned out to be not asleep in the slightest. Her sleepy brain all the sudden registered what the tiny small movements were. Her eyes flew open and she stifled the urge to gasp.

Rick was...relieving himself. Less than two feet from her.

He was almostly completely silent except the slight rustle of bed sheet and boxer shorts displaced from the slow but insistent stroking. She was not sure of what to do except to keep absolutely still with her back still to him. Her cheeks burned in the dark at first. Of course Rick was a busy man and with this kind of communal living, moments for these kinds of private affairs were limited. She was somewhat embarrassed to have intruded on his alone time. He was a man and she knew the needs of men having lived with boyfriends, lovers, and roommates in her previous life. And in different times and different cultures, men and women had to enjoy marital relations even with their children in close proximity. Hell, she even went to some granola hippie parenting bullshit class after Andre was born and scoffed while the women slyly exchanged secrets on how to satisfy their men while sleeping in the same room or even the same bed with their very young children.

So while she could rationalize why he was doing it, she had never felt more turned on in her life. She could not roll over and watch without giving herself away, but her core between her legs ached as she heard his breath hitch slightly as his tempo increased. Trying to stay still as a stone, she half contemplated fleeing and half contemplated snaking her hand behind her to help him along. In the end, she did neither as he finished himself off with a barely audible moan. All was quiet in the moments right after until she heard his hand withdraw from under the sheets and reach the night stand to his right for a few sheets of kleenex to clean himself off with. Now satiated, he rolled back over onto his right side away from her and was sound asleep within a few minutes.

Once his light snores were heard, she took several long breaths to compose herself and she silently stood up and slipped out back to her own room. Throwing her own clothing off straight onto the floor, she could tell immediately that her own underwear was soaked nearly through. Her fingers dipped into her core and she could see why. Falling onto the bed as she imagined Rick himself to lead her there, she immediately satisfied herself in mere moments with the sounds of his murmured climax still ringing in her ears.


	2. Chapter 2

Michonne woke the next morning quite unsure of what exactly happened the night before.  She remained very aroused by the thought of the man she cared for so deeply engaging in such a private and erotic act right next to her.  But she was unsure what it mean and why it happened.  While she was aware many men (and women, for that matter) engaged in masterbation before sleep to relieve tension, why did Rick not just do so in the bathroom before bed?  Why did he feel the need to do so right next to her in the bed they amicably shared for months?  Did the thought of doing it so close to her arouse him in and of itself or would he have done so next to anyone else?  Had he already done so when they were outside on the run camping together as a group and she had just never seen it?  He had not moved to touch her, so did he do it just to blow off steam like a randy teenage camper at scout camp sharing a tent with his fellows?  Or was there something more there?  Why did he want her sleeping with him (if it was just sleeping) in the first place?

She had more questions than answers as she moved downstairs for breakfast in the morning.  Rick smiled and nodded at her as he sipped coffee and scarfed down some plain whole wheat toast (compliments of Mrs. Niedermeyer, who was a fair hand with a bread machine but is still lacking a pasta maker). She smiled tentatively back, though it was fortuitous that Michonne's complexion was so dark as she would have likely blushed scarlet. Rick was wearing the chest hugging, snug fitting t-shirts and flattering track pants he favored at breakfast before donning his constable uniform. Rick was not especially tall but his lean and muscular frame was undeniably sexy. Whatever his reasons for taking his pleasure with himself last night, Michonne again felt a tingle in areas she had to satisfy just a few hours earlier. 

Michonne debated bringing up the subject with him on more than one occasion.  They were afterall very much adults and not a pair of young teenagers of Carl's age where you could circle "yes" if you liked someone on a passed note in history class.  However, she dare not rock the boat.  She was too afraid that if they even discussed the sleeping arrangements, something in that delicate balance may shift away from what she was hoping to build. And yet there was not a repeat performance as far as she knew despite sleeping nearly every night in his bed seemingly unbidden by the bed's owner.  

One evening about two weeks later, she woke in the darkness with him very close to her.  She had felt him tossing and turning that night and muttering things in his sleep.  He was asleep, but seemed twitchy.  The bed was a king, so they usually could have some space between the two of them, but she inched herself over to his side and lay the side of her face against his shoulders and gently placed her top arm over his in sort of a hug from behind.  He murmured but did not wake as it seemed to comfort him.  She felt him relax and she likewise fell back asleep holding him.  

As clearly as if an alarm clock had woken her, she felt the dawn pull her out of sleep.  But instead of managing a smooth departure back to her own room as usual as he was still asleep, she found the roles had reversed and Rick was clutching her from behind with his muscular wiry arm as they spooned.  She would have smiled at this and would have likely just gone  blissfully back to sleep after a few moments of enjoying the closeness, but she felt a firm pressure just below her lower back on her tailbone.  She almost sat upright when she realized it was his morning erection pressing through his gym shorts in a very sensitive area.  Her breath hitched as her body almost instinctively arched her spine into lordosis and ever so slowly pushed her ass to meet with his firm length.  Rick did not move at all, but the sensation was overwhelmingly teasing for her and she felt a surge of heat between her legs.  Rear entry positions were some of her favorite despite the long time since she had last engaged in such activities.  She was immediately aroused, despite the fact she typically did not seek out morning sex.  She would be absolutely mortified if he woke up, but the secret forbidden thrill of using him indirectly to fullfil her own pleasure was too tempting to pass up.  He had done the same, intentionally or not, so for once she was ready to be the selfish one.

She held her breath, listening to his steady breathing near her sensitive neck.  She knew she could disengage herself, even risk waking him up and prompting the inevitable discussion about what the hell it was that they were doing.  Michonne's self control was legendary.  But not perfect.  Her need ached with the continued pressure of his erection and she could not stop herself.  

Slowly, so very slowly, she traced her hand down her own pajama pants to her panty line and slipped a few fingers below the fabric.  Parting her neatly trimmed hair, she slid her middle finger back and forth and then in small circles around her hood and then to her eagerly awaiting clitoris.  Laying on her side trying to create as little movement as possible was not at an ideal angle to try any vaginal stimulation, but it was not necessary in this case.  She fantasized his relaxed arm on top of her was actually grasping her breast as his other hand had replaced her own stroking while he penetrated her from behind.  The oncoming orgasm was so sharp that she involuntarily bucked her hips once as she came.  Thankfully, her unwitting partner did not seem to notice above the waist, though his cock remained resolutely firm from the contact from her teased rear.

She grew quiet and still and only after many moments did she slowly withdraw her hands.  She could appreciate the scent of her arousal in the air and hoped Rick would not notice.   _So what if he did?_ she thought.  She decided two could play at this game.  


	3. Chapter 3

If Michonne thought that the previous night was going to slake her lust, she was mistaken. She was well beyond her high school and college days of constant hormones, but she was almost angry with Rick in her sexual frustration.  She was even more irritated given that tonight was not actually a night that Rick was on call for patrol as Daryl volunteered for the watch, so she did not have a ready made excuse to share his bed to watch over his daughter.  

She badly wanted to figure out where she stood, but she dared not broach the subject.  As formidable as Michonne could be, she nursed a secret side that was soft and vulnerable that she dared not show.  She was just too proud to handle rejection, so ride out the status quo and soldier on she must. So Michonne the ever stoic stewed in pot of hormones as she tried to figure out her next move.

The next afternoon, Daryl was excited as they had finally caught a pregnant horse that he and Aaron had been after for some time.  Buttons had apparently been a disaster as he fell to a small herd of walkers, but this female had evaded the dead but not the living.  Daryl was able to rope her that afternoon and led the mare back into town once he was able to get a halter on her.  Maggie had the most horse experience growing up with them, so she asked Michonne and Rick for help setting up a stable for the mare in an unused garage.  A thunderstorm started brewing not long after they were finished, so Carl naturally dubbed the grey mare Storm.  While the wind picked up and the rain started to fall, Michonne checked in on Maggie, who was on watch for a possible new foal soon.  

The mare whickered slightly wild eyed at the women's approach, but calmed somewhat as Michonne stroked her neck.  She had become feral after at least a year or two on her own, but she was clearly at least halter broke and used to people in her previous life. Storm seemed to know this was going to be difficult, so she did not mind their help. Maggie found some long household rubber gloves and checked Storm the best she knew how for how far along she was. Maggie lamenting the fact her father the mixed practice veterinarian was no longer there to help as the mare stomped and flared her nostrils at every clap of thunder. She reported to Michonne that the mare was indeed slighty dilated and the foal seemed very large for her rather petite frame.

The two women stayed nearby to watch the rest of the evening. Maggie was growing tired as the hours passed, so Maggie sent Rick in her place as he likewise had some amount of horse experience spending summers at his grandfather's horse farm in Kentucky. 

Michonne was lost in her thoughts when Rick entered the makeshift stable and nodded hello.  He joined her where she sat on a blanket atop a pile of straw and hay just outside the stall that Abraham and his crew had procurred from the grassy fields outside the fence that afternoon.  They sat in companionable silence as the rain pounded down outside and the mare grew more restless.  After an hour or so, a pair of small wet hooves appeared below her tail.  Storm groaned and the rest of the foal was passed not long after.  Michonne and Rick let the mother nuzzle and lick the foal (a sturdy black colt) before rubbing him briskly with some blankets Carl had brought in earlier that day.  

As they knelt in the straw with the colt and the mare looking on, they marveled at the moment of life that came forth in a treacherous world and shared a smile.  They both were parents and knew how much it changed them.  After a few minutes of being remarkably tolerant, the mare snorted and stomped, signaling her readiness to take care of the foal, who was trundling around the stall on unsteady spindly legs.  They decided to let nature take its course and let the colt find its first meal.  

They backed out of the stall together with Rick's hand tentatively finding the small of her back.  Once they were clear, Michonne paused a moment and realized the presence of his hand still there.  She turned and faced him a moment and studied his face briefly.  She embraced him for a few moments and released him soon after, her warm chocolate brown eyes meeting his blue ones.  Those eyes unfathomable, he returned the hug, gathering her back into his arms and stroking her hair and back.  She felt his slight stubble on the side of her face and breathed in his familiar masculine scent.  She would never admit it to him, but sometimes she would inhale his smell on his pillows as she was readying herself for bed in his room.  She had the scent etched into her brain. It could drive her mad on those nights he had not yet returned.  Yet here he was finally.  All to herself.  She had but to turn her head but a few inches and she could kiss his strong neck.  She leaned in to brush her lips over the tight cords of muscle...

CRACK!  A loud clap of thunder startled the mare, who trumpeted in alarm.

They released each other in surprise. She chuckled nervously, as clearly the moment had now passed.  She felt a bit sheepish for her intended boldness and she ducked her head to avoid his gaze.  Surely it was just a hug between good friends for observing a powerful moment in nature.  A clock on the inside of the garage indicated the hour was indeed late.  It was time to head back to the house, pouring rain or not.  Rick took his jacket and put it around her lean shoulders.  She accepted it with a small smile but said nothing.  Daryl was waiting to take on foal watch as they left, so Rick and Michonne walked back in the rain towards the house to check in on Carl and Judith before turning in themselves.  Having gotten soaked in the downpour, Rick walked into the bathroom to change into dry clothes as Michonne checked in on the two youngest in their group.  The kids were fine, with Carl actually having changed Judith's diaper and clothes without prompting.  She was already asleep in the crib in Rick's room.

Despite their close moment just minutes before, Michonne's heart sank a little as she knew she lacked a ready reason to fall asleep in bed like their usual situation.  Rick had never offered outside the evenings she was supposed to watch the kids.  She had not dared ask, preferring to keep with the status quo and not rock the little tiny boat of happiness she had built for herself.

As she gazed down into Judith's crib, Rick came back into the room standing in the doorway wearing a dry t-shirt and gym shorts, but hair still slick with the rain.  He had never looked so handsome.  Michonne almost meekly took this as her cue to leave, so she slid off the bed and motioned to leave.  As she made her way past him, a hand caught her shoulder and turned her back around to face him.  They again regarded each other for a moment face to face.  

"Stay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, evil cliffie! And this chapter actually had a little plot. Shame on me! :-)


	4. Chapter 4

_Stay?_

She could scarcely believe her ears.  Michonne's eyes narrowed in questioning disbelief as she looked up at Rick's face. His lips were ajar just slightly with his brows furrowed lightly in that appealing way as he gazed at her.  There was a warmth there. A fondness too.  But also a need.  His eyes echoed her own and spoke louder than his mouth ever could.  

Rick the Ringleader.  Rick the alpha male.  He could kill a man with his bare hands, even rip out a throat if needed, and slay a dozen walkers in mere moments.  But here he stood before her in the soft lamp light in the late hours vulnerable as the colt they just helped foal.  Prideful as a strong man must be, he could not seem to say it, but he was trying to let her know wordlessly that he wanted her.  

But he was afraid.  Afraid she'd say no.

Michonne finally understood that Rick had never been with a strong, self-assured woman before, so of course he would not understand how to make an overture.  Well before the world ended and Garrett dubbed her the Samurai, she was an attorney and was no shrinking violet even then.  For once, he did not want to pick the sweet, helpless princess, but a woman who could carve out her own future.  And at some point, between the time on the road where they grew close as friends and closer still as bedmates, he must have realized he and his family needed to be part of that future.  His ideal match was not a porcelain doll to put up on a pedestal, but a partner who could rule in her own right.  His equal.  His contrast in appearance, but mirror in personality.  

They held eye contact for what seemed like minutes, hours even.  His eyes asking permission and her eyes belying the disbelief that this was even happening.  

Then as a strong wave hits the coastal rocks, they crashed together.  His lips met with hers in a fury as he pulled her to him.  Strong arms held the body of the other. Teeth clashed with tongue.  Breath mingled with sighs and groans.  Nails raked posessively over flesh.  Fingers grasped and pulled hair and groped wantonly over clothing.

As his hands starting skirting below her button up shirt, she had to know once and for all, as this was almost happening too quickly.  Michonne did not want this to be some quick and meaningless hookup.  All her pent up emotions had been going on much too long to just chalk it up to "just sex."  She could not bear to expose her soul and be discarded or relegated to a friend with benefits.  No more pretending for months on end that sharing the same bed was nothing.  She had to know that he was hers.  She pulled back for a moment for a breath, steeling herself in case this whole facade tumbled down around her, and opened her eyes.

"Rick, I..."

Rick was panting as his own eyes shot open.  She stuttered and started to speak again as he smiled ruefully.  It was if he knew just what she was about to say.  Rick interupted her with a shake of the head.  He then clutched her hands as he sank down to his knees.  He bowed his head for a moment, took a deep breath, and looked her up in the face with an earnest smile.

"Michonne, I love you." he declared in his low husky drawl.  He said it as if he finally crossed some great internal chasm.  The words echoed in her ears, rendering her as thunderstruck as the storm outside.  She gasped and opened her mouth as to speak, but Rick shook his head and continued.

"I think I have loved you as a sister and as a friend since we first met when Carl and I found you outside the prison fence. Truth be told, I don't know when I was finally wise enough to understand I loved you even more, but I want this.  All of this.  I want you.  I want ...'us.'  If you will have all of us."

He almost shyly motioned with his head towards his daughter's crib and his son's room.  There was never any doubt in her mind she was and would always be loyal to him and his family. She would have saved his life a thousand times over as she already had done so.  She would have died protecting all three of them with naught but a kind word and smile from Rick.  But she would never have believed this man would want her.  Yet here he was on his knees looking up at her pleading for her to be his.

With tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks, she nodded.  Her eyes swam as he laughed in triumph and practically tackled her at the knees in glee, making her squeal as she fell backwards lightly onto his bed where they had shared so many nights.  She smiled at him and stroked his hair as he lay atop her with his head still no higher than her waist. He grinned suggestively as his playful joy started to turn to lust as he kissed her on the stomach, tracing his way around up her navel and up border of her shirt.  


End file.
